Columbia Star

1963        Celebrating 60 Years      2023

Remembering The Oasis

It’s not a criticism; It’s an observation



 

 

My brother, Rick, and my two longest continual friends, Richard and Mike, like to record themselves riding through our old neighborhood while listening to Oldies. I love my former stomping grounds and still get chills over certain songs but also enjoy newer stuff. And sometimes my memories are triggered differently.

While recently reading about Tuscaloosa’s best hamburger joints, a name jarred my senses like a predawn leg cramp. The hamburger at The Oasis was included among the Best Local Burgers in my former home town and I smiled because it should have been. That dive out on Old Birmingham Highway was special to many folks my age and continues to make memories for others.

Two other places on that list were long time dive bars that happened to make really good burgers. I can personally attest to both. A third was a somewhat newer place that sits next to legendary Bryant Denny stadium. I’ve enjoyed breakfast there but never a hamburger. The football memorabilia alone is worth a visit. But The Oasis Bar and Grill is different.

First of all, it sits next door to my former father-in-law’s property, the house where I first courted the future mother of my children. The place where I met and was initially terrified by the most impressive man I’ve ever known. His angelic wife was one of my all time favorite people. Their son now lives in a much newer house on that same property. But I knew about The Oasis well before I got acquainted with the Jones family.

I was barely a teenager when I first heard tall tales about the rowdy place out in Cottondale and the unbelievable hamburgers they made there. A couple years later, my first substitute mother—we called her Ma Anderson—took a carload of rookies to The Oasis. She was much rowdier than any other mother we knew but taught the same lessons—just in a different way. She also let us discover Country Club malt liquor in a safe environment— a felony nowadays. The hamburgers were much better.

A rather large group of people my age spent quality time at The Oasis as we grew into young adults. I hadn’t thought of this place in years. Maybe my buddies need to start doing Oasis videos—although most wouldn’t be family friendly.

My favorite story happened when Webb Jones, that scary old man whose daughter I married, was dying. He’d quit eating, maybe realizing there was no use or maybe he just wasn’t hungry anymore. One day his wife, in desperation, went next door and ordered him a hamburger. He wolfed down the burger and began improving. There was a small problem.

Regulars at The Oasis Bar and Grill visited the place for cold daytime beer and enlightening conversation about problems with younger generations. Most of these guys also attended the Cottondale United Methodist Church, same as Mrs. Jones. So every time she entered the front door there was a small stampede out the back door by closet drinkers who didn’t want that disapproving look from Mrs. Imogene. I don’t blame them.

I’ve been the recipient of that look myself. It’s hard to forget.

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